"Yes."
He did not answer with words, but he put his arms about her and kissed her, as he had not kissed her since she went away to Africa. She shut her eyes. Presently she felt the pressure of his arms relax.
"I'm perfectly happy now," she said. "Perfectly happy."
He moved away a step or two. His face was flushed, and she thought that he looked younger, that the boyish expression she loved had come back to him.
"Good-bye, Hermione," he said.
Still he did not go. She thought that he had something more to say but did not know how to say it. She felt so certain of this that she said:
"What is it, Maurice?"
"We shall come back to Sicily, I suppose, sha'n't we, some time or other?"
"Surely. Many times, I hope."
"Suppose—one can never tell what will happen—suppose one of us were to die here?"